


Beat It

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [39]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: A fight breaks out in Manhattan and Race goes missing





	Beat It

**Author's Note:**

> got this prompt from user @monroe on here!!! canon era is c h i l l as hell i love writing it :)

Spot wasn’t even really sure how the whole thing had broken out in the first place. He’d had a bunch of kids with him in Manhattan for a card game, and it had been going great actually; not necessarily money-wise, he’d swear up and down the Manhattan lodging held a class on counting cards, but tensions were pretty low between the two groups for the first time in a while.

Naturally then, because street kids weren't allowed to have good luck, when the fight broke out it was vicious. The Brooklyn kids had been heading back, barely a block down when they passed one of the few bars that was still open for the night. And, as usually happened with the kind of people who got wasted on this side of town, once one of Spot’s kid mentioned something about winnings, one of them had thrown a fist while they walked by. 

That one turned into a lot more as people heard the noise from inside and got riled up, and then the Manhattan kids heard the fight and they were all there too. It was actually a damn good fight for all of them, he and Jack’s boys won by a long shot, the other guys were bigger but drunk out of their minds, and everyone had beat it before the bulls showed up. They all met back at Manhattan’s lodging, everyone in better spirits after blowing off some steam, and they were all sitting around upstairs trying to clean up. That’s when a problem arose.

“Anybody seen Race?”

Spot tilted his head back from the couch he was sitting on to look at Jack, who was holding a bloodied rag to his head while he looked around the room. 

There were a few shrugs and murmurs from the Brooklyn kids and the older Manhattan boys that had stayed awake. When Jack looked at Spot he shook his head too.

“Did anyone see him come in?” Jack asked, a growing edge in his voice that Spot recognized as fear. It was bad to have a kid missing after a fight like that, especially with the bulls showing up the way they did. Everyone had just ran and made their way back to lodging without really thinking. 

Another general ‘no’ went through the group and Jack started for the stairs leading down to the door. Spot saw Mush start to get up after him, but Spot held a hand out and got up himself.

“I got him,” he said calmly, very aware of the growing amount of worried eyes on him. “If we need anyone I’ll come back, okay?”

The beaten group of boys nodded back at him slowly, Manhattan with more distrust than Brooklyn, and Spot felt their eyes following him as he went after Jack. By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs Jack was pacing a hole into the floor in front of the front door. 

When Spot got down he looked up and pulled the cloth he’d been holding away from his face, showing a nasty cut. “He’s still out there, Spot, god knows where.”

Spot could see is mind moving faster, imagining Race curled up in an alley somewhere, or worse, in the Refuge. He took a step in front of Jack to cut off the pacing and put a hand on his shoulder, it settled his own shaking anyway. 

“Kid’s faster than most of us here, and I saw him durin’ the fight, he wasn’t bad off enough that he couldn’t’ve got away.”

Jack pulled away and shook his head, looking at the door. “No, I-I gotta go look for him.”

Placing himself in Jack’s path again, Spot ignored the growl of frustration from the taller boy and gestured to his bloodied face, knowing for a fact his ribs weren’t too great either. “You ain’t in any shape to be runnin’ around in the dark Jack. Stay here, I’ll go.”

When Jack shook his head again and opened his mouth to argue, Spot cut him off again. 

“You got a whole room of kids up there worrin’ over ya, and if I go back up tellin’ ‘em you’se out on the street they’ll be after you in a second, and that ain’t good for anyone.”

He was right, and Spot watched Jack’s face fall as he recognized that, his shoulders dropping as he connected eyes with Spot again. “Don’t come back without him, or I’m goin’.”

That was the best answer Spot could’ve gotten at a time like this, and he gave a curt nod before turning and leaving out the door. Once he heard it smack shut he let himself take a deep breath and ball his hands into fists to try and calm the shaking. 

He was going to find him, there wasn’t any other option.

* * *

 

It had been about an hour since Spot set out, and the ache in his side was starting to slow him down now. Taking a second, he staggered into the alley closest and let himself lean with his back against the wall, breathing heavily and disjointed.

He started out circling lodging and making his way out farther and farther, but when that wasn’t getting him anywhere he started checking the way he knew Race took to and from the bridge. There was a chance he’d gone down to that place by the river, god knows why, but he did things like that when he was out of it sometimes. 

As he caught his breath, he heard something like a yell from across the street, and his head shot up. There was the flash of someone moving into the shadows of the alley, and Spot was out and across the street half a beat later.

“Ain’t Kelly ever told ya not to be out at this time of night?”

Freezing at the alley’s entrance, Spot pressed himself against the wall and looked inside. One of the Delancey’s had Race up against the wall by the collar, and the one talking was leaning against the wall facing Spot. 

And, as it usually went, Spot let himself go before he had any sort of plan in mind, and was tackling the one holding Race up to the ground before anything else could be said. 

There was the sound of weak coughing, Race’s, and Spot hit the kid hard in the face, hearing a crack. There was blood when he pulled his hand back.

“Hey-”

The startled yelp from above him was cut off, and Spot looked back to see Race land a punch on the other guy. It was weak, but Spot was up and pushing the guy against a wall before he could make a move back. 

“Get the fuck out, both of you.”

The snarl echoed in the alley, and the guy was thrown back against the other wall. Spot watched the two of them run away, not tearing his eyes away until they rounded the corner. They needed to get moving, he’d bet money the two of them would sick a bull on him and Race if they came across one. 

“Shit, Spotty.”

Spot turned quickly back and looked at Race, inhaling sharply despite himself. “Shit,  _ me _ ? Take a good look in a mirror, Racer.”

Race let out a weak chuckle, gripping his side a second later as his face twisted into a grimace. His face was dripping blood from a number of different places, and his hands were torn and bloodied at his side. Spot rushed forward when he looked like he was pitch over, and pulled his arm over his own shoulders, hoisting him up with the other arm.

“Take it easy,” he said softly. Race was putting almost his full weight into Spot’s side, and it took them a second to get a good stride before making their way out of the alley. “How the hell did ya end up over here?”

He turned his head to look at Race, whose face looked pretty damn bad up close; there was almost certainly someone at Manhattan’s lodging who’d be pulling out a sewing kit for the gash on temple. 

“I, uh,” Race started, his feet stumbling to the side a bit as they walked. “I beat it when the bulls showed up, went around the back of the block and started heading back for lodging. Those two caught sight’a me and chased me back here.”

There was a bitten edge at that last bit, and Spot could feel an anger pulsing off of Race; he hated getting beaten by anyone, especially those two. Spot wasn’t too much of a fan either.

“Well, Jackie-boy’ll probably chase ‘em all the way to Jersey with you lookin’ the way you do.”

Race coughed out another laugh at that, and Spot shifted his arm to pick him up a little more. “Let’s hurry up too, can’t be gettin’ picked up out here.”

“Only in Brooklyn, eh?”

“Damn right.”

* * *

 

Spot leaned against the wall next to Jack, watching with a wince as Jojo finished stitching up the cut on Race’s face, tying off his string and pulling away. Race, to his credit, hadn’t teared up the whole time, just clawed at the table underneath him and tried not to bite his busted lip. 

“He should be good, we just gotta remember to pour the alcohol on it everyday ‘til I take the stitches out.”

Jack nodded and patted his shoulder as the kid yawned and made his way out. “Thanks Jojo.”

Once he left the room, it was just the two of them and Race; they’d shooed all the other boys out so that they didn’t crowd Jojo or Race, and not many of them could stomach watching him get stitches, anyway.

Race looked up carefully at the two of them, eyes landing on Spot and he smiled lightly before looking at Jack. “Sorry ‘bout this, Jackie.”

Jack made his way forward and sat down at the table across from Race. “Nah, ain’t your fault, happens to the best of us now and then.”

Spot watched the two of them hold eye contact for a few seconds before Race ducked his head and let out a breathy laugh. 

“Al’s really gonna have to hold Elmer back tomorrow at distribution, huh?” he laughed, grinning with a stiff laziness up at Jack. Spot could see he wasn’t buying it.

But regardless, he forced out a laugh too and kicked Race’s shin lightly under the table. “Oh yeah, that’s rich thinkin’ Al would hold anyone back from a fight.”

Race leaned back in his chair as Jack stood up, eyes flicking over to Spot. “He’s probably gonna be the worst of us all with ‘em.”

“They won’t be around much longer,” Spot said lightly with a shrug, letting his eyes give away the attempt to lighten the strange tension in the room. “Probably be in Queens somewhere by tomorrow night.”

Jack rolled his eyes affectionately and clapped Spot on the shoulder as he made his way past Spot and toward the bunk room. 

“Both of ya get some sleep soon,” he called over his shoulder before leaving them in the empty room. 

Race tilted his busted up head at Spot, watching him walk over to the table and take Jack’s empty seat. “Gonna pull some life debt shit on me, Conlon?”

Spot shook his head and popped his knuckles. “Nah, more like a couple’a favors owed.”

“I like the sound of that,” Race said, his smirk quickly changing into a surprised yelp when Spot shoved the table forward and into his chest.

“Shut it.”

“I’m just sayin’, these kinda favors could’a been givin’ out before this whole thing- _ ow _ , Spot!”

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy hope u guys enjoyed!!! i always love getting prompts like the one i got for this one, so feel free to hmu!!
> 
> as always,, comments and kudos MAKE my day,, so feel free <3 <3


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